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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221792">The Freedom of France</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantabulousAss/pseuds/FantabulousAss'>FantabulousAss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reconnecting [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alfred visits France, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, i know nothing about france</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:09:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221792</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantabulousAss/pseuds/FantabulousAss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In his quest to "lose weight", Alfred visits one of his most trusted nations and has a real, genuine heart-to-heart for the first time in a long time. Francois is a good confidant.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>America/France (Hetalia), America/Russia (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reconnecting [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Freedom of France</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>We get to take a look at how Alfred and Ivan get together and how Alfred feels now that it's ended.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“France. He’s skinny, right?” His boss asked, glaring at him up and down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After getting back from Germany and still not losing any weight, his boss had been beyond pissed. He’d been so pissed, in fact, that he hadn’t seen him over the fall, winter and some spring months. It was a new year, 2019, and his boss was busy with his own issues, including being pardoned from working with Russia.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah. That had all fallen onto Alfred’s shoulders. He had finally been reprimanded fully, and had new rules set in place on who he was and was not allowed to talk to, and how in depth he was allowed to go during conversations.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, should Alfred be an asshole and violate these terms, there was nothing they could really do. They could throw him in jail, sure, but that would be stupid. Who would be their new nation liaison? The worst thing they could really do was force him to move into the White House for the remainder of his boss’s presidency so they could keep an eye on him and the unruly president at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fortunately for his officials, though, Alfred did not plan on violating these terms. He didn’t want to talk with Russia. He never wanted to see him again, if he was honest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d put on more weight, a fact he was acutely aware of as he walked out of the White House and back to his antique Ford, which dipped hilariously and cried only a little. It had to be grinding on his boss’s nerves, but Alfred couldn’t help but smirk at the disgust laid out on his boss’s face. Let him be disgusted. Alfred was </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span> about all the things he had no control over. The Keystone pipeline was disgusting and he’d made that abundantly clear… and yet, his concerns had been brushed aside for… what? Money? Power for his boss’s friends?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t particularly give a shit that his boss was so disgusted with his weight that he kept shipping him from place to place and refusing to look at him. What he really didn’t appreciate was that his boss kept sending him places, expecting him to not be looking at his email and keeping tabs on what was going on, trying to keep him from weighing in (ha!) on relevant issues. Alfred read every single official email that came through his inbox. He was being kept away from the action and that knowledge made him </span>
  <em>
    <span>furious</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t like secrets in his house, hated that he was being left out of so much. He might’ve fucked up, but he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> the mother fucking United States of America. He may not have much power in these later years, but his voice still mattered goddamn it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the rage that curled in his belly and set up shop, he admitted it would actually be nice to visit France in the springtime. It had been a long time…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, it had been a long time since he’d done anything in his free time other than hang around Ivan, hadn’t it? He did his best to keep up relations with other countries, playing word games and online games with Kiku was just the tip of the iceberg, really, but… goddamn. It had been a long time since he’d spent any meaningful time with his other friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a way, it was nice to be getting out of his country, visiting with his friends and doing basically what he wanted, away from the eyes of the Secret Service and Intelligence. He knew he was never really very far from the eyes of his government, thank you cell phones, but it was nice to be outside of their usual radar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>France was always beautiful this time of year, and Francois would probably be happy to see him, even if he was a little bitchy that Alfred hadn’t called or even asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t as if Alfred had much of a choice. He could say no, sure, but that would go over like a lead balloon. He wanted his boss irritated but not truly angry at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The plane ride over was easy, even though he’d again, had to buy two tickets. This time it was because the size of his ass was actually encroaching on the other chairs. Stupid tiny seats. Stupid huge ass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois had greeted him by pinching his cheeks and circling him, to see how the weight had changed his physique. He tutted. “You are lucky your ass is big.” He pouted, clearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanting</span>
  </em>
  <span> to grab and feel, but letting the notion go when he saw how unamused Alfred was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to see you too, Franny.” Alfred crossed his arms, scowling just a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh don’t be like that,” He tutted in French, face softening and moving forward to finally hug him and give the broad side of his belly a friendly pat. “You look good. It suits you as well as it suited Taft, if not better. Not everyone can say that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred’s scowl softened into a more melancholy half-smile at the mention of one of his personal favorite past presidents. “You look good too, papa, but you always do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois preened and then smoothed his hand over where he’d pinched Alfred’s cheeks and nibbled his lip thoughtfully. “I see why your boss is upset… but you can still wear fashionable options, you still look good, obviously still have my good looks, your teeth are as perfect as ever. He, as usual, is an idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sentiment was a fond one, and Alfred hugged Francois again, feeling the warmth of fondness go through him as he ran a hand through the back of Alfred’s hair. “Alright, now that that’s out of the way, are you busy or are we cool to just… do whatever?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois turned and led the way to his car, chattering on in French about what they would be doing. He had a full itinerary planned, unsurprisingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually…” Alfred started when Fran had paused to take a breath. “Can we just… hang around Paris? I know that’s not the only great thing about you, trust me, but I’m not too up for travel today… is that okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois tutted and pouted. “Fine. But just for today. Tomorrow, we go </span>
  <em>
    <span>wine tasting in Champagne</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>`~`</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois knew Alfred too well. He had known Alfred wasn’t planning on losing weight without the younger blond telling him a single thing. “It gets under his skin, of course you must keep it up.” He winked over the rim of his glass of some fancy-ass white wine. “You are as stubborn as Arthur and I have no desire to try to change your mind. Your accent and pronunciation, however, have gotten terrible, shape up darling, you sound like you’re from Quebec.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The one stipulation to Francois hanging out with him was that they had to speak in French. Alfred tended to speak the home language of whatever country he was in anyway, so it wasn’t much of a deterrent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred didn’t usually drink. He didn’t like the taste, and he rarely felt safe enough to do so. However, Francois, who knew which wines he liked based on his tastes in food, always managed to get a wine that he enjoyed, usually ones with very low alcohol content. In Paris, there were few places that had wine that Alfred could enjoy, but Francois knew every place that had at least one drink option that they would both be happy with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was probably why he felt so warm and loose after dinner, walking back to Francois’s house and then sitting on the balcony to watch the sun go down over the city. It was close to where they’d had dinner and he had mostly let his companion bitch and make snide remarks about… well, everyone. After a while, Fran’s complaints got stale and Alfred was prone to tuning them out in favor of just… watching him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was confidence there, in every movement he made. Fran was in his element, he was comfortable and he knew what he was talking about. Alfred genuinely loved to see it. He loved seeing the pride Francois had in his country, and also loved seeing him gripe about it, knowing he wasn’t the only one who loved his land and his people so unbearably much… and yet at the same time hated it too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once Alfred had gotten to a certain age, the relationship between Francois and him had gotten more frank, sarcastic and honest. It was nice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… I know that you and a certain somebody have put aside your relationship for good.” Francois looked at Alfred with a look that basically said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>spill it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred chuckled and scratched the crest of his belly, knowing that it would draw attention to the results of a fall and winter of binging and what not doing too much other than shovelling one’s front yard did to a body. “Well, yeah. I mean, that’s basically it. He violated my trust, Francois. I know everyone warned me, so please don’t start, but yeah. He stole documents from my office.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois tutted, “How many times have you been told to clean that pig-sty of a room?” The expression on his face was fond, infuriatingly so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not the point, Fran! He-,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois placed a hand over his, the motion so painfully familiar and affectionate he had to turn away. “Hey. Relax.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred’s eyes burned and he blinked hard, trying to rid himself of the sensation. “I know it was a joke, but Fran, he… I don’t know how much of our relationship was real. That’s what’s been bothering me. I never sensed a change in his behavior, and maybe that’s because I-I’m stupid, or maybe it’s because… the whole thing was fake. I don’t know and I can’t exactly ask something like that and expect to get an honest answer. I’m not allowed to talk to him outside of boardrooms and honestly I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want to</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t really want the answer, but it’s really… bothering me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t look at Francois, couldn’t bear to see pity that might be in his eyes, or the sweet understanding that had been in Ludwig’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The months back home had gone by quickly but they were so lonely. Sure, he was making small talk with Ludwig, but as it turned out, Ludwig was more awkward over the phone than he was in person. He was trying to talk to Kiku more, but the time difference was killer. He wondered how Ivan had done it, but that just set off the feeling of being even more alone than he had been before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to hit up any one of his friends, but… time difference and sometimes he just wasn’t emotionally strong enough to see anyone in person.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>France rubbed his thumb along the back of Alfred’s plump hand. “That is a difficult situation.” He stated agreeably. “I cannot say I blame you in not wanting to know. I will, however, ask you this, Alfred… Why do you care so much?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred glared at him, eyes brimming with tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not in that way! I apologize, that was more direct than I intended. I mean, why put yourself through all of this,” He moved his free hand up and down, signifying Alfred’s expanding waistline, “for Russia, of all people? You are a beautiful boy, blond hair, blue eyes, clear skin, charming, you are certainly a very powerful nation, physically, you are very strong, you could ask anyone and they would say yes to a date or even more! So… why him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That… was a good question. Alfred sighed and gently pulled his hand away from Francois’s. “I… I dunno, Fran.” He thought back to the original draw of Ivan, when he’d first started about doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> other than fighting with the older man, first started noticing the fact that yeah, sure his nose was big, but it had a nice shape and complimented his face very well. He had high cheekbones, skin that was only broken by small, thin scars here and there, very broad and self assured in the way he moved... he was just… very attractive. “He helped me out with my Revolution, and even though you were a huge help too, I dunno. I’ve always felt really… not indebted to him, but definitely happy that he helped out, y’know? Then the wars, the Red Scare…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He bit his tongue, not noticing that Francois was completely captivated. When it came to gossip, he really was helpless. “Love comes from all different kinds of feelings, doesn’t it?” He said, smiling fondly, thinking of his own hate-fueled escapades with various humans, nations, anyone he could possibly think of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred nodded, chest aching as he kept talking. “He made me feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of things. A lot of very </span>
  <em>
    <span>strong</span>
  </em>
  <span> things. He was bold, when he first asked me out to a lunch date, and it was terrible because we were both still so bitter, the Cold War had barely ended, but…” It had ended with them in the same hotel room, rough, angry sex having caused the bedframe to crack when Alfred had thrown Ivan down onto the bed, throwing his hands around Ivan’s throat, remembering the larger man’s feral smirk... He coughed, knowing that his blush had told Francois everything he’d needed to know about that first date. “We made up. We didn’t have a whole lot of time to be together, but… from there on, it was just… really good. He seemed to know everything about me, and I, him. He knew when to push my buttons and when he shouldn’t… he let me talk, too, like all the time. You know what I’m like, and I know it’s annoying, but he just… let me go. Let me talk for </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours</span>
  </em>
  <span> about absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>… and when I did talk about important stuff, he remembered it, and didn’t judge me.” He stared hard at the dimples on the back of his hands. “At least, I never thought he did, but now… nearly thirty years later, and he does that shit and doesn’t even have the decency to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell me</span>
  </em>
  <span> until two years after I catch him in the act, doing it again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois nodded. “I… understand a little better, I think.” Alfred was right, he did know what he was like, but he also knew, at least a little bit, what Russia was like. He’d grown up so lonely, growing up in isolation and among the least hospitable conditions in the world had to have done something to the man’s mind. It must’ve been nice to be around the unstoppable force that was the nation sitting in front of him, especially once he was in his good graces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And… I know there’s a lot to be desired about me. Sure, I’m charming, pretty, whatever you said… but I’m also annoying, kinda stupid and fat. I’ve been aware of it for a long time, so please don’t bother trying to say anything silly.” He purposefully kept his eyes away from Francois, watching his torso move and then settle. “He… made me feel like it didn’t matter. He made me feel like I… I dunno, we fought a lot, little bickering things, but not… he uplifted me, helped build my confidence when I first really realized I was getting fat and </span>
  <em>
    <span>staying</span>
  </em>
  <span> fat. Hell, I thought for sure he was going to leave me, but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span> that night. It had been a bad one and a fantastic one in early 2002 if he remembered correctly. He had been a mess, running himself ragged, trying to keep a strong face with as many allies as he could, while also struggling with the most intense paranoia he’d felt in years. It came from his people and from himself and it had sickened him, the way his mind had raced, the nightmares. Ivan had known something was off for a while, and he’d flown over to surprise him, the way Alfred had early on, when he had known Ivan was going through some shitty stuff with the dissolution of the Soviet Union.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred, who, for years since their last sexual encounter, had gone back and forth between starving himself because he was too caught up in issues that he was having to deal with while also not being able to do as much as he had in so many years past, and gorging himself at every opportunity due to stress and that starvation, had begged Ivan not to touch him, not to look at him. He had been sure that one look, one touch, would be all it took for Ivan to realize that Alfred was a mess, was unworthy of the relationship they were still building. He had, of course, been overjoyed to see Ivan, but it had been a surprise, and Alfred had, quite frankly, looked like shit and felt even worse when Ivan walked in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had been unshowered, convinced </span>
  <em>
    <span>entirely</span>
  </em>
  <span> that </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> had bugged his bathroom, starving and bloated because the night before he’d eaten so much it had hurt to do anything, and had decided not to eat anything that day. Ivan had tutted at him, ran his thick fingers through Alfred’s unwashed, greasy hair and kissed him on the forehead. “You need to shower.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tone he’d spoken with wasn’t judgemental, but so gentle and kind that Alfred’s eyes had filled with tears and he’d fallen into Ivan’s arms and told him everything he had been keeping back from his other allies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later on, he wasn’t sure how much of anything he’d said had been at all comprehensible, but Ivan stayed and cared for him. They hadn’t been America and Russia at all the entire weekend Ivan stayed. He had made sure Alfred slept, made sure he ate a good, regular amount without overdoing it to the point of pain, and most importantly, had kept Alfred calm by telling him old, </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span> stories of the world, of Russia, of Europe, like they were a story book, because they were so old that their lessons no longer had much bearing on the world, their characters so long gone they would be forgotten if it weren’t for Ivan and others like him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was something he was forever appreciative of, and something he’d never forgotten. Ivan had been so gentle and kind, unafraid of the horrors that ran through Alfred’s mind, unafraid of the state of his body and the mess he’d made of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hadn’t been a cure-all, by any means, but it had really strengthened their relationship and had cemented to Alfred that they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It had been the foundation on which the next 17 years of their relationship had been built, had brought them over the hump of just being casually together and being completely and irrefutably together, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was why Ivan’s betrayal had hurt so badly. Their relationship had been built on so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust</span>
  </em>
  <span> that when it was broken, Alfred didn’t know what was real anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He, too, had seen Ivan broken down, in the middle of becoming something </span>
  <em>
    <span>new</span>
  </em>
  <span> and completely raw from the changes he was experiencing, and Ivan had seen him dealing with so many horrible things that were so new to him. They had seen each other at some of their worst times in modern history, and Alfred just… couldn’t get over the fact that Ivan had been so willing to throw that away for… politics. For his boss. They were political creatures by nature, but… maybe he’d just been naive in thinking they could forget that for a few days a year.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He realized, suddenly, that he’d been sitting for a long time without saying anything. Francois had his eyes closed, the cool breeze lifting his hair, the picture of ease. “Sorry… where were we?” Alfred asked, knowing that the flush on his face would be hidden by the slowly darkening sky, but being a touch too self-conscious about it to care and took a sip of his drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do not worry about it, Alfred. I know that look.” He didn’t look toward Alfred, but sipped his own wine. “He made you feel good. Found you at a dark place and built you up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred nodded. “Nations do that a lot for each other, don’t they?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois nodded as well, finally opening his eyes and looking out across what he could see of Champagne. “We are the only creatures who realize acutely what the other may be going through. We may hate each other for decades or longer, but at the end of the day, we all understand what it’s like to be what we are, to be shaped from the inside out by politics, people and our land.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred swirled his wine in the glass. “Yeah, well. That’s what he did for me, and then he threw it away for his boss, to make him happy, or some bullshit. I don’t really know why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That bothers you too, no?” Francois asked, stare full of meaning Alfred wished he could make sense of. “The not knowing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it does. We… we talked about it, I tried to understand, but he said it was just an order from his boss, and he had to do it.” He frowned into his wine and sighed. “He had ignored plenty of orders from his boss before, I just… don’t understand why this one would be something he decided to follow when it was such a detrimental thing. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> what that information was and what it would be used for and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> did it! I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span>… What was the purpose behind it? What did he want to come from it? He hates my bastard boss as much as I do and yet he still made sure he won!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He has always been controlling.” Francois started, voice cautious as he spoke. He knew in the past, Alfred had been very defensive of Ivan, and had really believed the best in him and wasn’t sure what he would say about this idea. “Perhaps it was an attempt at making sure you couldn’t leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred put his emptied wine glass down and crossed his arms, glancing over at Francois and looking down at his arm hair. “I don’t… I don’t know if that’s the case. We’ve talked about stuff like that before and I know that’s something he’s worried about but… I thought we’d worked through it. I know we’re both kinda clueless sometimes, with the language thing, the different cultures, but… I dunno, Fran.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If his gut hadn’t been in the way, Alfred would’ve pulled his legs up to his torso and hugged them. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> something he missed about his leaner figure, the flexibility that came with it; and the lack of straight sized Europeans staring at him like he was some new breed of human. He technically </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> but it wasn’t like they knew that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, because he couldn’t bring his legs up, he crossed them at the ankles and stared at the pinky-purple-orange sky. “I want to ask him, but it seems so stupid to if I can’t tell what his intentions are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois looked over at Alfred, smiling fondly at those childlike, chubby cheeks. He loved the boy, really he did. Seeing someone he’d helped raise from childhood to independent adulthood and had kept in contact with for so long in such a state made him sad. He understood Arthur’s desire to have kept him young and innocent for longer. Alfred was a strong young man, independent to a fault and so goddamn trusting it was practically a crime. “But… you don’t want to continue the relationship between Ivan and yourself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched as Alfred’s face changed, going from melancholy to hopeful and then stubborn and angry in only a few seconds. “No. I don’t.” He could practically feel Alfred’s heartbreak from where he was sitting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois knew, though, that he would eventually forgive Ivan. It was within his nature to forgive and forget, even with the pain of betrayal so deep. It was simply fresh, rehashed over and over because of his boss’s disgust with him and being forced to jump from country to country. Alfred would eventually heal and Ivan would try again. He always did. Ivan was very good at getting what he wanted when he put his mind to it, and so was Alfred. It was part of the reason they had gotten so close and remained so close. “You will again, one day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred heaved a sigh, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “I know.” That was one of the things he’d been worried about, being stupid enough to try again and get hurt again and the idea that it was inevitable was both a comfort and a punishment. “I miss him a lot, Francois.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois smiled and stood, grabbing both his wine glass and Alfred’s. He pressed his lips to the crown of Alfred’s head and looked away as he started to cry, placing the glasses inside to give him a bit of privacy. He understood the pain of lover’s spats, and though Alfred fretted and worried while Ivan gave him space, Francois knew they would make up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pair of them were remarkably similar, each much more stubborn than they had any right to be, and with the added pressure of the both of them being a superpower… fights and power squabbles like these were bound to happen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It made him happy he was no longer in such a position of power. It had been marvelous while it lasted, but he much preferred the ease of being out from under that powerful pressure, especially with the digital age.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred wiped his eyes and stood, the sun finally going down and bathing the town in black. He hugged France from behind and sighed. “Thank you.” He mumbled, “I don’t usually get to talk about stuff like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois rested his own arms on top of Alfred’s and leaned back into the hug. “I know. It is difficult to talk about these things, even more so when they have heavy political consequences.” While countries were unique in their being, and could trust other countries more than anyone else, they still had to worry about their image, still had to worry about appearing strong, keeping their strength in the face of adversity and all of that bullshit. “Now that you have, though, I think it’s time we stop worrying about it and start enjoying your time here. The itinerary is loose, and I believe it’s high time to have some fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>`~`</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred ended up staying through the remainder of spring, through the whole summer and a few days into fall. The months had been filled with fun and Alfred felt leagues better than he had before he’d come over. He’d always been close with Francois, but this was a new type of close. They ate together, watched movies, hiked every once in a while… Fran had whined about hiking, saying he’d done enough marching to justify never doing this type of footwork again. Alfred had laughed and nearly knocked him over with a gentle punch. “What, old man? You gonna let a fatass like me outpace you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What Alfred hadn’t realized, was that Francois had gained weight. Not a lot, but he’d been softening up for years, age and a more sedentary lifestyle stuck behind a desk softening the hard planes that had once made up his midsection. Now, he had a little pooch that made closing his jeans so much harder, spurred on by the meals Alfred made and then urged him to indulge in when they went out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily, Francois insisted they go shopping enough Alfred didn’t notice Fran. He was a little more used to the stares that he got in stores, especially in clothing stores that definitely did not cater to anyone near his size, but he was still visibly unnerved by it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it was time for Alfred to leave, he gathered Fran up in a bone-crushing hug and whispered, “Thank you for everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francois weakly patted Alfred’s broad back and let out a guttural groan. “Too tight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed and dropped him, making sure to leave a supportive arm out for Francois to grab. “Sorry. I mean it, though. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once Francois had caught his breath, he smiled at Alfred and nodded. “Of course, Alfred, it’s been wonderful having you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would, though, be happy to be rid of the adorable American for a little while. Having any kind of guest for so long could be exhausting, and one whose very appearance urged him to overeat was dangerous for his trim little waistline!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew, though, as he watched the self-conscious boy move through the airport, that this would end rather well, if not for their countries, than for the two men themselves.</span>
</p>
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